Leopard print and Silver Cons
by Pyrogene
Summary: After their performing of Butterflies and Hurricanes, Muse leaves the stage, contempt with their performance. though Dom starts acting weird and Matt's worried... A hidden romance blooming? Rated M just incase it turns belldommy :D


_**Hey guys, got so bored at a mates house, and it was late at night so we decided to write a BELLDOM FANFIC!**_

_**Tell me what you think, I really enjoy feedback, and any ideas on where the story should go are more than welcome! **_

_**ENJOY!**_

His fingers gently melted the keys of the piano, the creamy ivory, and silken ebony, sweetly humming to his every whim, Matthew Bellamy. Oh how I wish his fingers, so soft and caring, caressing the piano, would caress me in such lovely harmony. I craved a single touch from those talented hands.

Then, like a hurricane to his beautiful butterfly, my drum beat started, crushing the softness of his piano playing like a bug, and replacing it with the hard, fast and precise strums of his guitar. The beautiful glitterati; hurled at my head many a time.

Jealousy overtook me as I watched with throbbing pulse as Matthew made love to his guitar. I wished I were that guitar, or maybe his microphone, or any number of instruments that this man could harmonise with, making the most perfect of sounds.

The song was over too quickly, and soon, so was the concert. I sighed in exhaustion and relief, but also sadness, on the stage, so immersed with the songs he had so expertly written, was the only time Matthew Bellamy looked at me with nothing but pure love and lust. Off stage, all my subtle advances ignored so innocently, but on stage, a whole new game of cat and mouse began.

"That was awesome!" Matthew yelled, the adrenaline obviously still pumping hard through his veins like a drum beat.

"Matthew fucking Bellamy, you killed out there." Chris laughed. Lagging behind to talk to someone who had called after him. The perfect scene appearing in my not so pure mind; Matt, me, a bottle of champagne… No. No, I don't think I could do that. Ever. I don't want to loose my best mate to a stupid crush.

"Hey, Dom, you were awesome." He laughed. I could tell the adrenaline was wearing off now, as he seemed calmer and not nearly as jumpy. I just nod my head, trying to fight the urge to pin Matt against the grey, corridor wall somewhere and snog his face off.

"Dom? Are you ok? You seem a bit pale…" Matt whispered, putting his hand on my shoulder. He cranes his neck to catch my ever-evading gaze.

"Nah, mate, fine." I murmur, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. He seems hurt by the gesture, but says nothing about it.

"Alright then." We walk into the backstage room and plop down on the red couches. Matt's blue eye's, though, never leaving me. I fidget with the hem of my shirt and avoid eye contact, fearing I may crumble any second due to Matt's concerned face.

"Matt…" I start, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them tightly, hiding my face in the small gap between my wobbly knees.

"Dom? I hear Matthew's voice questioning me. I heard Matt get up from his couch opposite my own, and stroll across the two to three metres that had tauntingly kept us so far apart. I shuddered under Matt's calm touch. How did this man do it? How did he hold so much unforgiving power over Dom when Dom himself was older? How did he not shiver when they touched? How did his face not warm when they accidently brushed during interviews?

Matt's Hand fell on my head, I instantly jolted out of his calm touch, wincing. "Dom? What wrong?" Matthew's worry so painstakingly obvious when his voice came out in a wispy, slur that made me want to scream. "Dom!" Matthew yelled as, I, Dominic Howard tiptoed around a worried Matthew Bellamy and stumbled toward the door in what must have seemed, near-drunk splendour. Flinging the door open, I suddenly came face to face with Chris.

"Whoa, whoa, buddy, what's the rush?" Chris said with a gut-shaking laugh, putting his hand between the door and myself, then I suddenly felt a wave of sick rushing to my gut in feeling Matt's eyes burning holes in my back.

I gagged and pushed Chris's arm aside, mumbling, "Gonna be sick," to the overly tall bass player. Chris nodded and moved fully out of my way. I ran aimlessly down the long hall only just registering Matt saying to Chris; "But he hasn't even had one drink yet…"

I honestly didn't know what this feeling in the pit of his stomach was, or why I was reacting to being alone with Matt like this.

My aimless running suddenly not so aimless as I skirted into the men's room and vomited in the toilet, letting out an ironic laugh, "Maybe this is what love sick feels like."

I was stumped. After Chris had left me to go looking for Dom, I threw myself at the couch, muttering words that were even incoherent to me.

What was that little blonde boy trying to do to me? How much did he have to make me worried before he was truly satisfied? I let out a harrumph. My god, those confused grey eyes, their gleaming sadness.

Dominic. Dominic Howard. The drummer that gets me so turned on during concerts that I have to, literally, throw a bloody guitar at his head to stop that stupidly adorable smirk, that seems to be constantly smeared across those stupidly soft lips. Stupid and soft and pink, and, and, beautifully kissable, his skin so adorably touchable.

"Why cant you just be mine?" I murmur to myself. Thinking of the man I only dare to make love with through song, the man of whom I spend every waking, and, admittedly, sleeping, moment of my life thinking about.

Stupid Dom.

Stupid, cute, adorable, sexy Dom, I hate you for being so loveable.

Just get out of my fucking head already.

The porcelain lid smiled an evil smile up at me, calling my name, telling me to hurl again and again. My stomach emptied completely. I just lie against the wall of the cell, my body wracking itself in violent shudders, cold sweat pouring off me, as my stomach tried to jump out of my throat.

"Dom?" I heard a faint call from the doorway of the men's room. I instantly recognised the voice to belong to Chris.

"Y—" I heave at the toilet once again, "Yeah mate, in h—in here." I called. Wincing, my head pounding violently.

"Shit, Dom, you look like hell!" Chris pointed out, none to obviously.

"Cheers, mate." I laughed bitterly, only triggering more wheezing.

"You right mate?" Chris asked. Advancing on my quivering form.

"Dandy," I sneer, my voice suddenly venomous.

"Lets get you back home, yeah mate?" Chris puts my arm around his shoulders, pulling me to my feet, my dehydrated body instantly going into an unbreakable blackness.


End file.
